


Starsurge - The Thirsty Magister

by hoxadrine



Series: The Twilight War [4]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Starring our favorite Suramar's merry band of misfits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-09-26 02:44:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9858473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoxadrine/pseuds/hoxadrine
Summary: When the Moon comes to her rest and the sun comes up, crazy things are bound to happen in Vanthir's bar, right on the outskirts of Suramar City. Yet it doesn't matter the time of night, for every kaldorei is always up to cheer The Thirsty's main musicians - Mylenne Stareye and Lothrius Mooncaller - when they decide to have their way upstage.(A.k.a, a collection of songs)From theStarsurge'verse.





	1. Rising Tides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oblivion, by M83 (feat. Susanne Sundfør) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=822P87a773c  
> Scene included on Starsurge, Chapter 13: [Braid of Ten Songs.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8055142/chapters/21320741)

**Stormrage  
** **(Lord Moonblade's kal-tora)**

 

Illidan rolls his eyes, the cerulean mask conveniently hiding his sheer irritation. “ _Hargo’then_ …” He growls low, striding to the closest railing to take a scan of the main floor, a new objective already set in his mind. “So, he must be the ‘golden-eye’ Silgryn’s friend talked about,”

Syrana smiles and waves to a couple of nobles nonchalantly ogling her as they walk by, grabbing two more glasses with that usual grace of hers on her way to him. “Well, that couldn’t be more obvious, you know,” Her face paints the perfect picture of enjoyment, despite the tone of her voice speaking out with evident exasperation. “As far as I know, he’s here as a civilian, though. And this isn’t official yet, but I’ve heard something about Lady Ailen recommending him for a future post for the Stareyes.”

He blinks twice, hardly believing her words for a moment. “Why, isn’t that _great…_ ” Illidan snarls with clenched teeth, doing a hard work of keeping his face from contorting in sheer frustration. “Although I wonder why Lord Stareye would allow any sorcerer to tag along with him or his daughter," He muses, more to himself rather than to his friend.

“It’s not like he has any say in the matter,” Syrana shrugs slightly, the small movement for only him to see as she keeps smiling and saluting every pompous noble that walks past them. “It seems obvious to me that Lord Stareye is trying to forge an alliance with the Astravars. Can’t find any other way for them to sneak into the Court of Stars otherwise…” Her lips barely move as she speaks, taking precious care of not be heard by unwanted ears.

Illidan hums low, trying to catch up with what her friend says as well as doing his best to understand House Stareye’s position in the whole chess game that is for a Highborne—if the ‘game’ itself has some rational explanation for how it’s played, that is.

Preferring to keep track of the nobles hanging around the main floor, he sneaks a couple of inches closer to his friend, “But they already pledged with the Lunastres,” Illidan can’t help but wonder, taking a swig of his glass as he speaks.

Syrana snorts faintly, “And again, unwillingly. He had to, after figuratively _stealing_ Duke Lunastre’s betrothed and forging a new Household in its stead.” She explains as she rests her back on the railing, adopting a nonchalant pose, not worrying to look at him, “I’d say that was a very small price to pay, though; you just don’t stand in a Duke’s way if you intend to keep playing the game of the Court and live to tell it, my friend…”

He spends some time in silence after that, nursing his drink and mulling over what he just heard as he tries to maintain his gaze focused on the people below them. Syrana certainly has a point with her assumption of Lord Desdel attempting for an alliance with the Astravars. After all, the Lunastres are the only Great House that never claimed a seat in the Court of Stars, seemingly preferring to have their own estate on the opposite side of Suramar’s Highborne territory.

But whatever the reasons for doing that were, Illidan suddenly stops wondering about it, for then a known voice from below reaches his ears, recalling his complete attention.

“ _Since I was young, I knew I'd find you. But our love was a song sung by a dying swan…_ ”

A tender smile clings to his lips, a faint sigh escaping him with the sight of the singer, drums, cellos, and violins encompassing the lovely sound of her voice. Her long violet hair is arranged into a loose braid, decorated with little stars that only highlight the beautiful and characteristic color of her mane, swinging and falling behind her shoulders as she goes.

“ _And in the night, you hear me calling, you hear me calling. And in your dreams you see me falling, falling…”_

He’s not aware that he started moving after Syrana grabs his arm and saunters beside him, walking down the stairs on their way to the main floor. His ear twitches slightly, but Syrana’s words come out muffled as for him being too entranced with Mylenne’s voice, clinging to him from the main stage located next to the dance floor.

Her blue and long, silky gown fits her body like a second skin, the fabric shimmering so very slightly with the lights pointing at her, arms waving gracefully and bright silver eyes glancing at the crowd before her, her gaze soft, her smile softer.

“ _Breathe in the light, I'll stay here in the shadows… Waiting for a sign as the tide grows, higher, and higher, and higher._ ”

A flash of cobalt makes its appearance around the multitude gathered close to the stage, although Hargo’then’s sudden presence is not enough for Illidan to distract him from the woman above, her form and voice captivating him so strongly as if like a charm spell had been applied to him.

Could that even be possible? He can only take a hard swallow, goosebumps showing in his skin, heart fluttering and breath hitching when Mylenne’s oh so bright eyes capture his for a mere moment before drifting away.

“ _And when the nights are long, all those stars recall your goodbye… your goodbye…_ ”

He knows that he may be giving a good show to his friend, still clinging to his arm, for the way he starts getting conscious of his gawking, but he can’t really help it. Somehow he feels slightly sad for Syrana, for he’s aware that he might be probably the only kaldorei that can see the true beauty that is Mylenne Stareye—the flashing lights not even as bright as her aura, gleaming and shimmering all over her pale, delicate lavender skin.

Could it be another more breathtaking sight in the whole world than hers? He’d spent two thousand and four hundred years taking and appreciating the beauty in the world he lives in—the soft texture of expensive silks, the whispers of the wind around the forest at night, the strong yet sweet taste of Nightpear Cider, how the purplish-blue mists of his arcane magic sparkle so cheerfully when touched by the moonlight. 

“ _Breathe in the light and say goodbye…_ ”

And yet, so very few things can compare to the stunning display before his eyes. Honestly, could exist anything more _beautiful_ than her?

Unfortunately—and like all that is beautiful—the song comes to an end, leaving him to nearly startle when the music stops and the crowd gives a round of applause afterwards. Mylenne bows elegantly and waves to Lord Moonblade, who’s standing nearby, before walking down the stage.

Illidan observes her braided violet mane as she strides around the multitude and conveniently away from Lord Stareye, looking too entrenched in a conversation with a masked female to care to pay attention to all the fuss around.

“Well, seems like a nice time for a dance, don’t you think?” His friend takes him out of his reverie, not waiting for an answer as she gracefully pulls him along with her, heading towards the dance floor. Another singer takes the lead and music starts pounding once again before Illidan can notice, “Come on, Lid, I have an idea. You’ll thank me later…” She insists as she grabs his hand, refusing an argument from his part.


	2. Echoes of Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taciturn, by Stone Sour - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6-YTkJmz14  
> Scene included on Starsurge, Chapter 16: [Tormented Souls](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8055142/chapters/22447874).

**Stormrage**   
**(Illidan's house - Meredil)**

 

Carrying her as tenderly and carefully as he can, he brings her close to the chimney’s fire, propping himself down to sit on the floor, placing her upon his lap. Her loneliness, her miserableness, all her dark feelings are so palpable at their close distance that—for the tiniest of moments—he fears to get overwhelmed as her buzzing aura keeps brushing his skin; exhausted and fainting, yet steady, like the beating of her heart.

Crossing his legs and with his back resting against the feet of the sofa, Mylenne gets on telling him everything that happened the last two months without seeing each other. How heartbroken she’d felt when her childhood friend left for a post among the Sentinels, how her friend’s brother seems to be falling apart without his sibling, isolating himself into his work. And while Illidan may not have the best of sentiments towards the Shadowsong warrior and Priestess, he can certainly understand—and relate to—the pain of the distance from those one cares the most.  

Mylenne also comments on how her uncle and _lover_ —which Illidan knows for sure he may never get used to her and Hargo’then’s state of relationship—are currently absent, immersed onto their jobs and tasks as well, apparently oblivious to her highly unstable emotional state. From Silgryn, Illidan can also relate, if unlikely; for even with this growing loathing he’d been building towards Malfurion, the sudden inability of not relying on his only blood relative can’t be anything but painful.

Rebel tears escape from her eyes once more as she then explains how she’d been spending her nights either sleeping or praying, but not even the Goddess appears to listen to her pleas—and judging by the slight bitterness in her words, never quite did.

_Just as Elune never listened to me either_ , he can’t help but admit to himself, cradling her close to his chest, struggling against the painful clenching of his heart that comes with her words.

Eventually, Mylenne stops nearly _vomiting_ her frustrations and fears to him, clinging to his vest in a seemingly unconscious search for physical warmth. “I really shouldn’t… I’m sorry for bringing this to you, Illidan. I’m sorry for this mess, for your bro—“ A sharp shaking of his head prevents her from recalling that particular topic, stopping short and sighing tiredly, “I’m sorry for being nothing but a nuisance to you. You don’t deserve this from me.”

Illidan leans away a couple of inches, “You’re not a nuisance, Mylie. Not to me, not to _anyone_ , you hear me?” He assures, lifting her chin with the back of his thumb and looking straight to her eyes to affirm how serious he is. When a hopeful little smile shows on the woman’s lips, he can’t help but continue, “Although I’m afraid you haven’t picked the… _nicest_ companion to help you out, I think,”

“But I can listen too, that’s the least I can do,” Mylenne tries to reassure him, straightening a little bit to get to his eye level. “Even more so, I _want_ to hear you out. And you can tell me anything you want to vent out, you know? Is there something I can do for you?”

He ponders about telling her everything that has been crossing his mind for a moment, but the will to speak never comes. “No, you can’t, I’m sorry. To be more honest, _I can’t,_ ” He confesses, his nose creasing at the mere thought of recalling the mess that is his own life. “I promise you some night I’ll tell you, but I guess that’s my own battle to fight as for right now…”

Mylenne nods in apparent understanding, a sympathetic look plastered on her lavender face. “Alright, then,” One of her small hands travel to untie his tousled ponytail, first searching his face for permission, her features brightening as he leans his head to give her a better access. “Uhm, would you do something else for me?” She wonders, a tint of innocence in her voice, “Would you… sing to me?”

“I don’t _sing_ ,” Illidan nearly deadpans, tilting his head a little bit to send a half-amused glare in her direction, yet still allowing the woman to let his hair loose.

“And why don’t you?” She fakes a pout, running her fingers through his cobalt mane, bringing some strands to rest over his shoulders and on his chest, “That can’t be anything but a _tragedy_ , with that lovely voice of yours…”

“Ha, as if you needed to flatter me,” He smirks, leaning his head back and taking a moment to consider the idea. “Well, the only song I can recall right now is one our Moon Priestess used to sing to me and—“ A small snort follows, reminding himself to not bring the topic of his brother in any way, “It’s silly, though, and I wouldn’t say it being particularly… cheerful,”

“Sounds fitting already,” The woman shrugs, settling against his chest once more, idly toying with the tips of his mane.

Silence falls upon them for some minutes, Illidan staring at the flickering fire from the chimney, pondering over the idea. He never tried for singing, or ever considered the thought of doing it as many of his friends and acquaintances did. In his mind, singing has always been an activity more fitting to Priestesses, young noble Lords and Ladies, and local jesters or entertainers.

However, his _Min’da_ used to sing when she was in a particularly sour mood, way back in his childhood years. A sense of nostalgia washes over him as he remembers some past nights at Val’sharah, with _Min’da_ idly humming in their small, humble kitchen as she prepared the meals for them—her bright green mane tilting side to side as she sang, somehow oblivious of her elder son secretly listening to her, sitting at the top of the stairs leading to the bedrooms.

_Min’da_ always sang when she was near her lowest—it couldn’t hurt for him then to at least try, isn’t it?

So, Illidan takes a deep breath in an attempt to find some encouragement, closing his eyes and focusing on recalling what the late Moon Priestess used to sing to him before his sleep.

_“Across the sea to you, I've left myself deserted here again. Across the sea to you, my pieces are too broken now to mend,”_

Mylenne smiles below, looking evidently delighted, cradling closer to his body and resting her head on his broad shoulder, soft breath fanning near his collarbones. As he goes on, she gets on idly working on making small braids with some strands of his hair, silently prompting him to continue.

_“In the middle, under a cold black sky, the Moon will only shine for you and I. In the moment before I lose my mind, these hours don't mean anything this time…”_

He can’t help but glance at the small body in his arms, _“Give me a sign, show me the light. Maybe tonight I'll tell you everything,”_ His free hand, as if having a life of its own, goes to hold the side of her head, fingers brushing through the long curtain that is her hair, bright shades of violet showing with the reflection of the fire upon them.

_“Across the world for you, my reasons have no reason to remain. I'd cross the world for you, I don't know what I'm doing wrong but I can’t stay the same,”_

Mylenne’s silence and stillness prompt him to continue, making Illidan grow a little bolder as he keeps singing, his voice feeling steadier and more confident. Her body curled up so close also does wonders on soothing the darkest of his thoughts, the familiar scent of lilies warming him from the inside out.

_“In the middle, under a clear blue sky, the sun can only burn for you and I. In the moment before I lose my mind, these hours don't mean anything this time…”_

Eventually, he starts swaying back and forth, gently and soothingly, holding her as if cradling a child. Her magic feels dormant then, just as relaxed as she is, and Illidan can’t help with resting his cheek on the top of her head, savoring and clinging to the comfort of her presence.

_“Give me a sign, show me the light. Maybe tonight I'll tell you everything.”_ He murmurs, voice low and gentle, gazing at the remains of the chimney’s fire that slowly flickers off as the minutes go by.

Casting a glance to the nearest window, Illidan notices the usual yellowish rays announcing the coming of midday—barely peeking out from behind the storm clouds, still hovering over and around the city. From below, Mylenne sighs softly, her chest going up and down in slow movements, clearly looking asleep. A quiet hum escapes him, a tender smile crossing his lips at the sight of her undisturbed features, one of her arms still clinging to his vest.

His head lolls back to the sofa, doing his best to summon the will to move, yet it comes to be a near impossible task with the lovely warmth of that woman curled up in his arms—the bright curtain of her hair, her soft breath, her endearing scent, everything coming from her eliciting him to relax. To just… take a break from the world, and _rest_.

Somehow and in between, he can’t help with being in awe, staring at the roof and contemplating the whole course and sudden shifting of events. Of all outcomes he’d been expecting that night, he’s completely sure that having Mylenne Stareye sleeping in his arms wasn’t one of them.

“I too needed this,” Illidan whispers so very low, nearly mouthing the words, his eyelids feeling heavy as he’s quickly lured onto sleep. Looking at her delicate, beautiful face one last time, another grateful smile clings up to him, fully relaxing in his spot before falling into slumber. “Thank you, Mylenne…” 


	3. Crashing Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Through Glass, by Stone Sour - https://youtu.be/5QIcHd0fKcY  
> Slightly edited for purposes of this chapter.

**Stormrage**   
**(The Thirsty Magister - Suramar's outskirts)**

 

She looks _gorgeous_ , with a beauty that would match and beat the Goddess herself as she gently removes from all the hugs and people surrounding her, striding right in Illidan’s direction with a firm pace, taking his breath away with the cheerful smile she sends his way—a smile only meant _for him._

“I knew you’d be behind all this, Lid!” It’s all Mylenne says before throwing herself into his arms—almost as she was meaning to do that from the very beginning. It doesn’t help for his heart to nearly hammering its way out of his chest, but he doesn’t care as an overwhelming sense of relief washes over him, meeting her midway and sending her spinning many times, careful not to crush her in his embrace. “I’ve been _just about_ making Jarod spill out everything, but he didn’t somehow. And I can be very persuasive with him, but he kept biting his tongue and didn’t—“

“It wasn’t only my doing,” Illidan admits, the alluring scent of her going straight to his head as he buries his face in her neck. “I didn’t do anything, to be honest. Your uncle was the one to send the invitations, and your band’s been very helpful as they rehearsed with me for some months back,”

She lets go of him in sheer surprise, bright silver eyes wide open, although doesn’t let go as Illidan fears for a moment. “My… _band_ , you say?” Very slowly, an astounded smile clings to her lips, blinking many times as if she couldn’t believe it just yet. “That’s what you’ve been doing behind my back—?”

A tug in Mylenne’s arm brings her away from him completely, the most temperamental of her friends coming to view, making Illidan swallow a groan out of politeness. “Come, Myl. Your uncle saved you a front seat for tonight,” Maiev sends a forced smile his way, not letting go of her friend as she interlocks their arms together, pulling her further apart and to the biggest table in the bar. “You won’t believe the cake we made _especially_ for you,”

Illidan hopes the elder Shadowsong doesn’t notice the annoyed rolling of his eyes, yet follows either way, his friends right behind him. Silgryn quickly gathers the entire group around his niece as the ever so servile second waitress of the bar, Verene, comes in between the crowd with a big moonberry cake—a silver crescent moon pointing upwards adorning the top along with some violet candles, flaring in pretty shades of purplish-blue.

Mylenne’s face brightens with sheer joy as her loved ones join her at the table; her uncle and the Shadowsong siblings nearly trapping her in place as the whole bar chants the same line in a ‘Happy _kal-tora!_ ’. Her deep blush before blowing off the candles makes Illidan grin from ear to ear, joining the round of applause as a sense of warmth washes over him with the mere sight of the woman before him looking so overjoyed and grateful.

For some suspicious reason, Mylenne’s lover doesn’t seem to be present, but Illidan isn’t up to looking a cat gift in the mouth. Either way, they have been on the verge of a break up for the past two months, so perhaps it wouldn’t be weird if Hargo ends up not showing at all, Illidan’s personal feelings towards their relationship aside.

“Dear _Goddess_! This tastes like heaven!” Mylenne sighs heavily with half a mouthful of cake, taking a quick sip of the nearest ale to speak properly. “It even _smells_ like it!” Casting a knowing glance at the elder Shadowsong, it’s all it takes to give her away—for the first time in Illidan’s life, being a witness of Maiev _arane_ Shadowsong literally _blushing._

“Heh, Vanthir’s hands are on it as well,” Silgryn remarks, the brightest of grins never leaving his lavender face. “Also, Margeaux and her lifemate send their regards, as I’m sure you’d already noticed the particular _flavor,_ ” He kisses his niece’s forehead fondly at the same time a hand lands heavily on Illidan’s shoulder, nearly startling him—if it weren’t for the previous heavy drinks he already had, unconsciously sending his senses on high alert.

Lothrius head subtly tilting towards the perfectly set up stage is all Illidan needs to get on the move; a nearly breathtaking sense of anxiety making his ears tilt downwards and sending his hands shaking, yet complying with his friend as they head away from the table.

Insecurity takes claim of his head once more; what if something, _anything_ , goes wrong? What if Mylenne doesn’t actually like what they’ve prepared for her? Maybe he should’ve picked a more cheerful song, given the special date, or perhaps something that wouldn’t leave him as… _vulnerable_ as he’s feeling he’s about to become. He should have left Lothrius and Thania do their magic, not put him in the spotlight exactly tonight. Surely Mylenne was only being polite when she once said some years back he had a lovely voice and nothing further.

The noise of a clearing throat breaks him out of his reverie, leaving Illidan hyperaware he’s already seated in the front with Lothrius’ spare guitar—in front of _the whole bar,_ no less—the musicians ready for his sign to start.

For all intents, purposes and months of rehearsal as well, he’s sitting right there in front of the public, Illidan realizes. He might as well—and quite literally—face the music. Taking a deep breath, his nails pull the strings of his guitar in a tentative try, noticing it right in sync as planned.

“Ahem,” He flinches as his voice echoes throughout the entire bar, yet does his best to maintain his composure. Where has it been when he’s been as nervous as then? “Well, I, um… I’ve heard a certain _dorei_ saying they’d like to hear me sing, some years back. I guess I had to try, for what it matters,” Feeling his face burning as he blushes, Illidan knows for sure he couldn’t feel more embarrassed, not daring to glance at the crowd before him. “Now you can’t blame me for not trying something new, Mylie…” The jest comes out of his mouth without any particular reason, a nervous chuckle following.

Lothrius pulls some strings of his guitar so to set the song in motion, but suddenly Illidan’s throat feels closed, his voice not coming out. From his periphery, he notices Thania smiling in understanding, using her harp so to cover his rookie misstep. Half a minute and some breaths later, the song comes by itself.

 _“I'm looking at you through the glass, don't know how much time has passed. Oh, Moon, it feels like forever. But no one ever tells you that forever feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head,”_ His throat feels tight and almost unused for several weeks, although at least his fingers work by itself with pulling the strings as intended, not missing the notes he’s been practicing for weeks.  
  
“How do you feel? That is the question, but I forget we don't expect an easy answer.”Illidan’s head unconsciously tilts to the side, partially hearing his partners and doing his best to keep up—despite the incredibly fast pacing of his heart. _“When something like a soul becomes initialized and folded up in shards and scrolls and little notes, you can't expect a bit of hope,”_  
  
He dares to raise his head, glancing through crinkled slits at everyone but the particular woman he’s singing for, focusing on the pretty bluish patterns spreading across Syrana’s sleeves. _“So while you're outside looking in, describing what you see, remember what you're staring at is me,”_  
  
The words come out of his mouth before thinking about it, just as how’s been practiced. _“Because I'm looking at you through the glass, don't know how much time has passed,”_ His eyes meet Mylenne’s, yet only very briefly before glancing away, not ready to face her just then. _“All I know is that it feels like forever, and no one ever tells you that forever feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head…”_  
  
As planned, his fingers move across the strings so very slowly, feeling the vibrations alongside his hands. _“How much is real? So much to question. An epidemic of their fake smirks, contaminating everything,”_ A fleeting knowing smile crosses his face, his eyes finally drifting to the front table, noticing the Stareyes having their attention completely glued to him—a pair of two silver eyes wide and big as two beautiful Moons watching him intently. _Adoringly_ , even. _“We thought it came from the heart; it never did right from the start. Just listen to the noises,”_ Lothrius complies with his own line, adding, _“Null and void instead of voices,”_  
  
The sight of Mylenne, seemingly fascinated, is everything that takes to spur him on; more motivated than ever before, his voice not so strained anymore as he properly faces the public as he should’ve done from the start, _“Before you tell yourself it's just a different scene, remember it's just different from what you've seen,”_  
  
He stands tall and slightly imposing, an encouraging smirk from his musicians flashing on the corner of his eyes. _“Because I'm looking at you through the glass, don't know how much time has passed. All I know is that it feels like forever, and no one ever tells you that forever feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head,”_

The rhythm swifts into a faster pace, Thania and Lothrius joining hearteningly, the crowd nearly exploding as the three of them chant from the bottom of their lungs, _“And it's the stars, the stars that shine for you! And it's the stars, the stars that lie to you as well!”_

Mylenne and her uncle nearly jump from their seats, raising their fists and singing along with the entire bar—what may possibly started as a chill mood suddenly turning into a full rave. It doesn’t take long for a good bunch to stride to the dance floor ahead, Syrana right on the lead, cheering and spurring them on. Funnily enough, Illidan’s fears and insecurities fade away within each shouting from the crowd below, internally laughing at his own odd shyness.

He never had anything to be anxious of in the first place and right then, with Mylenne and Syrana beaming at him and gleefully shouting from the bottom of their lungs, Illidan can’t come to understand how he’d the nerves to doubt of himself at the beginning—how mere minutes ago he couldn’t even meet his friends’ eyes or even walk upstage when actually it’d been exactly what he needed to strengthen his resolve.

Perhaps it’s just the liquid courage finally working, but his gut tells him otherwise; it has been just the intensity in Mylenne’s gaze, utterly glued on him—and _only him—_ delight nearly pouring out of her and sending his heart to hammer its way out of his chest in sheer joy.

_“And it's the stars, the stars that shine for you! And it's the stars, the stars that lie to you as well!”_

For some reason and a painful minute, he doesn’t want to finish the song, hesitant and clinging to that heavenly feeling warming him from the inside out. Surprisingly so, Illidan finds out again he doesn’t have anything to be fearful of as Lothrius pulls the final strings and the entire place explodes in a round of applause.

It doesn’t take long for Illidan to be pulled offstage and blend in as the ‘ _experienced musicians’_ , as Silgryn insistently remarks it, take care of keeping the cheerful party going. Taking precious care of staying in the quite opposite side from the Shadowsong siblings—not like it matters to the young one, Jarod, apparently more than entranced and dancing with Shalasyr, yet still careful and keeping a watchful eye on Maiev—Syrana, Mylenne and him take a safe and wide space to mingle and dance along, drinks coming and going as normal in celebrations such as these.

“I knew you had it in you,” Mylenne insists while throwing her arms around his neck, feeling her slightly tipsy as she clumsily drops a tender kiss close to his jaw. “I’m so proud and glad you dared to come upstage and sing for us,”

“Bah, he just needed a little nudge from his friends,” Syrana smirks at his periphery, not needing a partner to sway and enjoy the music by herself, purposefully giving them their personal space yet, as usual, showing her endless support—something Illidan has always appreciated and had been fond of a noble Lady such as her. “Aaaaand some liquid courage as well, but that’s normal,”

Mylenne throws a genuine cackle in his arms, “Can totally relate with the liquid courage. First time I made a performance, people could smell the two bottles of Nightwine I had from miles away, believe me,” Illidan sends her spinning twice but her merry laugh never stops, his grin growing wider as she leans on his chest and rests her cheek there for a moment. “What matters is that you _dared_ , Lid,” She whispers close to his collarbone, a slight shiver running down his stomach with the feeling of her lips slightly brushing his skin, “I couldn’t ask for anything more this evening. Thank you so, _so_ much for this…”

“Hey,” He uses two fingers to lift her head by the jaw, properly facing her, “If you think your _kal-tora_ is over, then it’s safe to say you have absolutely _no idea…_ ”


End file.
